Learning Lara
by SarcasticPaperTowel
Summary: Lara DiSessa has a gift that can help people; the disapproving stares and malicious rumours are just an unfortunate side effect. When she is sent to deliver a message, she finds it may not be as straight forwards as she had originally thought. Victor benedict is a no nonsense workaholic and getting him to listen to her might just be her biggest challenge yet.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! So, as some of you may have guessed from the unfamiliar username, I'm new to fanfiction. Although ive been reading fanfics for a long time, i never got around to setting up my own account mainly because im not really the best of writers. The idea for this kinda came out of nowhere and as i just said,writing is not my strongest point, so don't be dissapointed if this ends badly. This story is still in the planning phases and as of today, this is the only chapter i have written for it. I've been playing around with a few ideas but in the long run, the future of this story will depend on wether you as an audience enjoy it. I know this intro is long but i just wanted to get all this info out there. Thank you and be sure to give me your opinions in the comments!**

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"Are you sure this is gonna work?" I asked, eying the building that towered before me.

"It's what they need to know for it to all fall into place." He muttered. I turned to face him, ignoring the busy flow of people that pushed past me; he was too young to be in this predicament, too nice. In an ideal world, I would never have met him, I would have gone on living my life and he would have done the same. That couldn't happen now though, I had met him and I needed to help him, wanted to help him.

"Ok. Are you sure it's this building?" He nodded "And I'm looking for Victor Benedict?" He nodded again. He didn't speak much, and I didn't blame him, it couldn't be easy in his current state.

I gave him a smile and turned towards the building, stopping once I reached the doors to turn and look at him one last time. He stared blankly, looking in my direction but not at me, not at anything. Taking a deep breath, I walked through the doors.

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The lobby was spacious and a little too over the top if you ask me; the tiled floor was scattered with uncomfortable looking leather sofas, potted plants in a variety of specimens, and numerous paintings and murals hanging on the walls. It seemed better suited to a shrinks office than a federal building.

Crossing the floor to the reception desk, I took in the large amount of security. I wasn't surprised to see that they all carried weapons, in fact I was quite glad; this was the FBI after all, it would have scared me more to learn that the people in charge of protection weren't even properly equipped to do so. Although I was glad for their presence, it didn't stop the nervous shiver that ran down my spine. In my line of work, security wasn't always on my side, or ever for that fact.

I reached the main desk without a hitch and let out a sigh of relief, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. The young woman behind the desk held up a manicured finger, indicating me to wait as she finished her phone call. Placing the phone down, she quickly scribbled something before turning her attention to me.

"Hello ma'am. What can I help you with today?"

"I was hoping to see Victor Benedict."

"Do you had an appointment?" Crap, crap, crap. I glanced around quickly, trying to think of something to say. I gave her a smile, wiping my palms on my jeans.

"Not exactly but I'm sure he will find what I have to say vey interesting." She gave me a sceptical look and moved to look behind me. Oh god, she was getting suspicious.

"Look, ma'am, I'm afraid-"

"Please, it's really important. I just need five minutes. If you could tell him-"

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." She picked up the phone and started to dial, more than likely calling security. My breathing quickened as i tried to figure out what to do. Without a second thought I reached out, taking the phone from her hand and putting it back on the desk.

"ROGER!" She let out a shrill scream, flinging her chair back in her haste to stand up. As soon as the name left her mouth, three middle age men, dressed in black with holstered guns, came running towards us, or more specifically, me.

I didn't have a chance to react before I was being restrained, arms held behind my back, body pushed against the front of the desk. One of the men left my side to go to the receptionist, who was now trying to wipe away a waterfall of unnecessary tears.

"Are you ok, Sofia? What's going on here?" He asked hurriedly.

"She...she grabbed the phone! She was d-demanding I let her in but she didn't have an appointment. Oh, Roger, I was so scared!" My mouth dropped open in disbelief. Was this woman for real?

"She's blowing it way out of proportion!" I argued, trying to wiggle my way out of the vice like grip of the security guards "I only asked to see someone. It's really important that I-"

"Baxter, get her outta here. Make sure you tell Johnson about her, I don't want her finding her way back past the front gates." With a curt nod, one of the guards stepped forward dragging me with him.

I struggled against his restraint, trying desperately to get free. The whole crowd was watching now, staring at the scene before them as if it was some sort of pay per view. I dismissed it all and continued to struggle, managing for a fleeting second to break free before being pulled back into place. I let out a frustrated snarl.

"Just let me go! I need. To see. Victor Benedict!" I tugged my arm free, the momentum sending my elbow back against the guards face with a sickening crack. I winced at the sound, slowly turning round to meet the face of a now very angry guard. I let out a cry as he twisted my arm further behind my back, pain racing up my arm and across my shoulders.

"You just made a very big mistake, missy." His mouth was so close to my ear that I could hear his teeth grind as he spoke. Oh god, I was in deep shit.

"Baxter." A stern voice echoed through the lobby causing the guard to freeze and loosen his grip on my arm just a little. I struggled against his hold to see who had spoken but the wall of flesh that was Baxter was blocking my view.

"Let her go. I'll escort her out." Baxter kept his hold for a few more seconds before begrudgingly pushing me away, causing me to stumble for a few paces before I regained my balance.

I turned in time to see Baxter leave. I'd like to say he stormed off but I was sure that was just his normal way of walking. I scanned the crowd to locate the person who had intervened, wanting to thank them for getting me out of that particular tight spot.

"That would be me." I jumped at the voice; hands moving to cover my mouth before the shriek of surprise came out, I turned to my side to find the speaker.

It was a man, not that old in age, in fact rather young compared to some of the others that were walking around. His ink black hair was tied back from his face, giving a clear view of his chiseled features and cold gaze. His lips remained unsmiling, never moving from the slight frown he wore as I looked at him.

"Uh..." I was at a loss for words, partly because my heart was still thumping from the shock, and partly because he had my heart thumping for a whole different reason.

"Shouldn't you be thanking me right now?" His voice was as cold as his eyes. There was no emotion in his words, well there was, but it sounded a lot like annoyance.

"Excuse me?" I blinked a few times trying to figure out what he was implying.

"For some reason, I just stuck my neck out for you, even though you were the one causing trouble. I think that deserves some gratitude." I let out a huff of disbelief. What he was saying may have been true but he didn't have to be so rude about it.

"I'm thankful and all but you don't have to talk to me like that. If I recall correctly, I didn't ask you to do anything for me."

Something crossed his face but it was gone before I could even begin to try and guess what it was. He took a step closer and leaned forward, face only inches away. His grey eyes scanned my face briefly before meeting mine again, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

I felt my cheeks start to burn under his patronising gaze but I couldn't bring myself to walk away. Although this guy was clearly a jerk with an overinflated ego, there was something attractive about him but whatever that was, I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

"No? Then why were you shouting my name at the top of your lungs?" It took me a minute to grasp what he was saying. No... There was no way in hell it could be this easy.

"You're victor Benedict?" I asked suspiciously, not quite trusting the guy but still unable to stop the sense of relief from rushing through my body.

"The one and only. Now if you don't mind, I have somewhere to be." With that he turned on his heels, walking towards the exit and leaving me standing alone, no doubt looking rather ridiculous.


	2. Chapter 2

**So by the looks of your reviews, you seem to be enjoying this story so far... Although, there is only one review showing on the website, I did get emails so I was able to read all the guest reviews too. Thank you so much for your opinions and this chapter is for you. I hope you continue to like and review this story cause so far** **I'm having a lot of fun writing it.**

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That jerk was Victor Benedict? That jerk was Victor Benedict! My brain finally kicked in and propelled me forward, towards the exit and after Victor. As soon as I pushed through the glass doors, I let out a groan of frustration; the crowds were much thicker outside and the fact that they were all wearing weirdly similar suits didn't help at all in identifying specific people.

I turned in circles, trying desperately to pick him from the crowd without much success. I was about to give up when something caught my eye; a deep red jumper pulled loosely over a stark white shirt. It wasn't Victor but it may just be a hundred times better. I ran forward, stopping a few feet in front of him and bending to rest my hands on my knees to allow some oxygen to sooth my burning lungs.

"Did you find him?" He asked before I even had a chance to catch my breath. I couldn't help but seen the glimmer of hope flash across his face. I pushed myself up, standing straight and ignoring the protest of my lungs. I needed to be quick about this or I'd never find Victor Benedict.

"Yes, but I lost him in the crowd. Can you help me look? He couldn't have gotten far." He nodded almost immediately, the eagerness showing on his face. I gave him a returning nod before we split up, each taking different sides.

I scanned my area more closely this time, looking for small things that I could remember about him. He wore a black suit but apparently so did almost everyone else around here, so that was no use. His hair was a defining point but no one close to me had hair even remotely similar and the rest were too far away to say for sure.

I ran a hand through my hair, reluctant to give up but unsure how to move forward. Turning with the intention of retracing my steps, I came face to face with a smile that gave me a new rush of hope.

"I found him! He's heading towards Brook Street and he just passed the visitor parking lot." I smiled at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair and feeling a pang of sadness as I did so. Pushing it to the back of my mind, I gave him a grin and set off with the promise to meet him later.

The visitors parking lot wasn't that hard to find and I ran straight past it in the direction of Brook street. I was thankful when the crowd started to thin so that I could slow my pace and give my aching legs a rest.

Brook street was by no means empty but it did lack people in suits, so when I saw a black one up a head, I sprinted forward doing a mental happy dance when I saw the person had tied back their jet black hair.

I reached out, grabbing him by the arm and stopping him from walking any further. Within a split second he had shaken of my hand and turned to face me, reaching for his waistband. When he registered who it was, he shot me a glare and I saw him slide his gun back into its holster. Woah, this guy was jumpy.

"I just want to talk." I held my hands up, signalling that I didn't have any ulterior motives. He scoffed at my actions and turned around, walking away from me for the second time that day. This time though, I was determined not to loose him.

"Hey! Where are you going?" I called after him, struggling to keep up with his long strides. He had to be well over six foot and he was using that to his advantage.

"I said where are you go-" He spun around causing me to walk straight into his rock solid chest. I took a few dazed steps back, shaking off the shock. He towered over me, annoyance plain to see on his face.

"What does that have to do with you?" His voice was low and cold and I had the suspicion that that never changed, regardless of the situation. I had to admit, it was intimidating but I had other things to think about. More important things.

"There's something important that I need to talk to you about." I put emphasis on 'important' hoping it would make him see that I wasn't messing about. Unfortunately, it seemed to have the opposite effect.

"If you want to thank me, just do it quickly. I have other things to do." I felt the anger begin to boil under my skin. This guy was incorrigible!

"Why would I come all this way-" I begrudgingly stopped myself from carrying on. Although I really wanted to, shouting at him probably wasn't the best idea right now. Lowering my voice, I started again.

"I'm not here to apologise. I'm here because someone asked me to pass along a message. A very important message that means a great deal to a lot of people. All I'm asking is that you give me five minutes of your time. Five minutes and then you never have to see me again. Is that okay?"

He stared at me for a few seconds, but I couldn't tell what he was thinking. This guy had the perfect poker face. I really hoped he was thinking about hearing me out but then again, he could just as easily be thinking about what he wanted for lunch. I shuffled awkwardly, waiting for his reply.

"Who was it that asked you to pass on the message?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Can't or won't?" He had me there. I could easily tell him who it was but I also wanted him to actually take me seriously and if I gave him a name, there was a very small chance of that happening.

"I can't." He didn't seem very happy with my reply. He didn't seem happy at all.

"If you can't tell me who sent you, then I can't listen to what you have to say." Without a second look, he turned and walked away for what seemed like the millionth time; that annoying habit of his was really starting to grate on my nerves.

"It's about a case!" I shouted after him, unable to hide my smile when he stopped dead and spun around to face me. The smile quickly vanished however, when he started walking back towards me at an alarming pace.

When I was within reach, he grabbed my wrist, dragging me down the street for a few seconds before pulling me into a small alley. He let go of me only to back me into a corner next to a slimy wall and an even slimier dumpster. The lighting in the alley wasn't very good but I could easily see the snarl on his lips.

"What type of game are you trying to play?" His voice was threatening and I had no doubt in my mind that I had succeeded in pissing him off. Six foot of angry male probably wasn't the easiest of opponents if things got out of hand.

"I'm not playing anything. I really do need to talk to you and it really is about a case. Despite what you may think, I'm not here to waste you time or mess with you. I'm trying to help."

"Trying to help who?" He hadn't backed off but the anger seemed to have dropped slightly; he no longer looked like he was about to squash me to a pulp.

"I can't tell you that. I can only pass on the message."

"You said it was about a case. What case?" This was fast becoming an interrogation. Definitely not how I had I visioned this conversation but I wasn't complaining as long as he was actually listening.

"Peter McLaughlin." Whatever calm he had regained was immediately lost again once he heard that name. He pushed me harder against the wall, anger radiating off of him.

"How do you know about that? That case hasn't be made public." He growled, eyes narrowing in suspicion. This really wasn't going well.

"I've already told you, I was sent to deliver a message."

"And I've already asked who sent you!" I was about to repeat that I couldn't tell him that but he cut me off before I could even start.

"Don't even think about telling me you can't. You either tell me who sent you, or I arrest you and we talk about this in a nice, cosy interrogation room. Your choice."

I really didn't want to tell him but I also really didn't want to get arrested again. Something told me that my previous experiences at the police station would be nothing compared to the FBI. I took a deep breath, trying to ready myself for his reaction but knowing it could only end badly.

"Peter. Peter McLaughlin sent me." A new wave of fury crossed his face and I knew he didn't believe me. Heck, I wouldn't even believe me if it was the other way around.

"Peter couldn't have sent you. Peter is dead."

"I know." I took in a deep breath, not able to believe what I was about to say.

"I see dead people."


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's chapter 3. I wasn't quite sure how you guys would take the whole "dead people" thing but it seems to be going pretty well... Please continue to let me know what you think about this story so I don't end up going off on some weird, unwanted tangent about beekeepers or something...**

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He stared at me in stunned silence for a few seconds before slowly backing away from me and running a hand across his jaw. He didn't need to speak for me to know what he was thinking; not only did he not believe me, he also thought I was bat shit crazy. That was defiantly going to make my job harder.

"Look, I know you think I'm crazy or maybe you think this is all some kind of joke but its not. It's hard to believe but I'm telling you the truth." I chose my words carefully, trying to find the right balance between 'you can trust me' and 'please don't call the hospital'.

"I can see that."He mumbled not quite looking at me. I couldn't believe it. He knew I was telling the truth? Maybe I had been overreacting earlier, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"You can? That's great, for a second there I was getting seriously worried." I let out a nervous laugh, hopping that he wouldn't change his mind and call an ambulance.

"I can see that you really believe it." He said, his voice returning to its normal tone as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Before I thought this was all just a sick joke but you genuinely believe that you can see dead people."

My face fell, he didn't believe me at all. In fact he was trying to psycho assess me, probably trying to see what category of crazy I fit into best.

"That's because I do. I don't expect you to understand or even care but at least let me deliver the message." He could think me crazy as much as he liked as long as he let me tell him what I needed to.

"Peter's message? Sure, go ahead." I could tell he was humouring me, mocking me behind a false pretence of caring but I didn't care. I was doing this for Peter and I could only hope Victor Benedict took the information I was about to give him into account.

"He says your looking in the wrong places. Peter didn't see the person who killed him but the man you have in custody did. At the moment he thinks you've arrested him because of the drugs he's been selling so he won't talk. If you make a deal with him, you have a good chance of getting an ID of the killer as he's one of the suspects you have already looked at."

I racked my brains to think of anything else I may have missed but couldn't remember anything else. It seemed like it had taken a long time but I had finally gotten through to Victor. Now all I could hope for was that he took it seriously. Victor had been processing all of that information and finally met my eyes.

"How do you know we have somebody in custody? Only myself and two others know of the arrest." He was getting angry again but I didn't have the strength to argue anymore. Wether he believed me or not was up to him, and I told him as much.

"So I'm just meant to believe that you can see ghosts and what? They inform you about cases? Tell you how they died?" His reaction almost made me want to laugh. He was so adamant about what was wrong or right, true or false, that even the mere thought of something out of the ordinary sent him into meltdown.

"Whatever I say, it's not going to change what you think is it? I could spend my whole life trying to prove myself to you and you'd still call me crazy. So I'm not going to bother. All I hope is that you listen to what I told you, if you can't do it for yourself, at least do it for Peter. He deserves that." I stepped around him, tired from the mornings events and desperate to escape from the dark alley.

Blocking the entrance was Peter. His red jumper didn't move in the breeze and the blood from the jagged cut across his neck was slowly making its way further down his white school shirt. He could only be about 17, his baby face marred by blood and scratches whereas his hair was still almost immaculately styled. I gave him a smile but he didn't return it, instead he glared at Victor.

"He doesn't believe you!" He shouted, his voice raspy and almost nonexistent. "After everything you did and said, he still doesn't believe." He moved closer until I could see his eyes swimming with unshed tears.

"There's not many people that are willing to believe that sort of thing. We just have to hope he listens to you." I heard Victor say something in the background but I blocked it out, knowing he was probably making some snide remark on who I was talking to.

"But he should be more willing to believe than others. He should be able to believe that people can do things that others see as crazy." I furrowed my brow, unsure at what he was tying to say.

"What do you mean?" I asked but he wasn't looking at me anymore; he was staring at Victor intently, a plan formulating in his mind.

"You have to tell him. You have to tell him your a savant." He said, excitement coating his voice. I let out a sigh and tried to me his eyes, to no avail.

"I can't do that. You know I'm not meant to tell non-savants. He'd just think I was even crazier."

"No! No, I remembered the thing I had forgotten before. When I was following him around, he went to visit his family. All of them, they were all savants!" My jaw dropped and I spun around to face Victor.

"You're a savant?" He seemed as taken aback as I was; neither of us said anything for a few seconds, instead we just stared at each other in shock.

"How did you know that?"

"Peter told me..." I gestured over my shoulder before remembering he couldn't see him and lowering my hand.

"You mean you really can see..." He trailed off, cheeks starting to turn pink but I couldn't tell what from.

"Yeah, it's my gift. I'm a savant too." I started to laugh as he let that sink in. This was defiantly a hilarious turn of events. I turned to look at Peter who was smiling triumphantly, happy with himself.

"It would have been so much easier if you had told me earlier, Peter." I said, mock scolding him with a shake of my head. He just shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly before disappearing, probably to go reward himself with a stroll around the coffee shop he loved on Main Street.

"Please don't do that." Victor said, drawing my attention back to him. He was pacing back and forth, running a hand repeatedly through his hair.

"Why?" I smirked "Does it freak you out now that you know it's real?" He shot me a glare and I tried to wipe the smug look of my face. I'd have plenty of chance to laugh about this when it was all over.

"So what are you gonna do now?" I asked, hoping I knew what the answer would be. He stopped his pacing, seemingly having come to a decision.

"If I was smart, I'd forget all about this and continue my life as if nothing had happened."

"And if you weren't smart?"

"I'd have to accept the fact that you can see dead people, believe everything you told me about the case, and go cut a deal with the suspect."

"We'll in that case, I think you're an absolute idiot."


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the wait but unfortunately, I do have to go to college. It seems you guys like this so I will be continuing unless you guys tell me to do otherwise. I was thinking about updating on a schedule and for the time being I will be updating twice a week. Later on I will be going down to updating one chapter a week to allow for more time for college work. I hope you guys are okay with this and like the chapter. Don't forget to tell me what you think!**

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I sat stiffly on the stainless steel chair, long since having given up on trying to get comfortable. Victor had been talking to the suspect for well over an hour and had stormed out of the room in a fit of rage more than once. For the past 20 minutes though, it had been relatively quiet and I was hoping they were finally starting to see eye to eye

I watch as the janitor passed by for the umpteenth time; making his way down the corridor, mopping as he went before flickering out of focus and reappearing at the start of the corridor to repeat the process. He took no notice of me, or anyone for that matter. Residual energies like his only served to repeat one motion, they had no knowledge of what was happening around them.

I let out a sigh as he once again disappeared only to reappear a few seconds later. God knows how long he would be here, there was no way of telling with residuals.

The door for the interrogation room swung open and jolted me from my thoughts; out came Victor and another of his colleagues, both looking decidedly smug with themselves. The colleague, Jackson if I remembered correctly, pounded Victor on the back in congratulations.

"Thank God that's over!" He said from behind a yawn, turning to look at Victor "I thought that scumbag was never going to agree to help us."

"It would have been a lot easier if I could have just exercised my gift." Victor responded in thought, and I made a note to ask him about it later on. Something told me his gift would be just as straight forward and menacing as he was.

"That's what I mean! We're dealing with non-savants because the McLaughlin's practically paid us to take the case. We're the FBI, not the local police department, this kind of stuff is insulting." He jabbered away, only exposing himself more and more as a self righteous jerk.

"Do you have kids, Agent Jackson?" I asked, too curious to keep quiet. He turned to meet my eyes, clearly not expecting the question.

"Uh, no. Why do you ask?"

"Do you want kids?" I pressed, enjoying watching him squirm under my gaze.

"Sure, when I meet the right woman. What are you getting at?"

"When your child is born and you hold them in your arms, I want you to think about this case. I want you to think about Peter McLaughlin and I want you to imagine someone doing that to your child. I want you to imagine that little bundle in your arms being taken from you in the worst way possible. Maybe then you'll be able to understand why the McLaughlin's came to the FBI."

He didn't get a chance to reply because somebody else beat him to it. A middle aged man and woman approached arms wrapped around each other in what looked like a comforting embrace.

"She's right. You don't understand what's its like. We would do anything to get our son back but we can't do that, so we are going to do whatever we can to make sure he gets justice." The man dismissed Agent Jackson once he had finished speaking and turned instead to Agent Benedict.

"Is there any news?"

"There is one new lead Mr McLaughlin. I don't want to get your hopes up because there is always a chance that things can turn out differently but I can tell you that as of this moment, a man has agreed to speak to a sketch artist about identifying the man responsible for your sons death." Agent Benedict responded voice still ice cold but gaze softening a little as he address the couple.

"So what does that mean exactly?" Mr McLaughlin asked, brow furrowing in confusion. Victor looked uncertain as to what he should say, not wanting to set them up for disappointment if the suspect didn't come through of the deal.

"I think we have a good chance of finding whoever did this."

Mrs McLaughlin let out a sob, clinging onto her husband as she cried. Encircling her in his arms, Mr McLaughin pulled her closer, brushing the hair back from her face and whispering soothing words.

When the sobbing subsided to quiet sniffles, he looked over his wife's head, reaching out a hand and clasping Victors in a firm shake.

"Thank you. Thank you, Agent Benedict. I can't begin to describe how indebted we are to you." Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke but he didn't let them fall. Victor simply hook his head, shaking off any mention of debt.

"That's not necessary. I was only doing my job and I did have a little help." He looked down at me quickly before, looking to Agent Jackson, indicating that he should take the McLaughlin's somewhere more private.

As the three made their way down the corridor, he looked at her once again. His face was impassive but if I looked hard enough, I was sure I could see a slight satisfaction within his eyes.

"I think that went rather well, all things considering." He said, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked around the corridor.

"And to think you would have just walked away from me without even giving me a chance." I replied, not having forgotten his earlier behaviour. Just cause he had listened to me in the end, didn't mean I had forgotten about his crappy behaviour.

"Even if I had, we would have no doubt solved the case anyway. It was just a matter of time before we got another lead that took us right to the killer."

"How can you be so sure of yourself? I'm living proof that even you can't be right all the time. Up until a couple of hours ago, you thought I was just some crazy weirdo." I couldn't believe he was so up himself, he clearly thought very highly of himself.

"I'm good at my job. I do it and I do it well. And don't for a second tell me that if you were in my position you wouldn't have thought the same. You didn't exactly look very sane when you were being dragged away by security."

I stared at him in shock, unable to believe what he had just said. I had proved to him why I could do and yet here he was, insulting me in the worse possible way. I could feel the anger begin to build and no matter how much I tried to push it back down, it continued to rise.

I could feel my hands balling into fists and my face turning a violent shade of red but I could seem to stop myself. Didn't want to stop myself. I was sick of being treated like crap by a douchebag that had some sort of superiority complex.

"You know what, Agent Benedict? You're a really crappy person. I don't know what happened in your life to make you think it was okay to treat people like dirt but it really isn't. Before you start judging other people, you might want to take a good, hard look at yourself because I can defiantly see some critical flaws that need addressing."

His eye widened in surprise before quickly regaining their steeliness, all of it now directed at me. Anger shadowed his face, driving away the coldness and replacing it with something much worse. He clenched his jaw as though trying to restrain himself and I struggled to not back away from him; he definitely didn't look happy and my brain was screaming at me to run away while I still had the chance.

"What did you say?" His voice was menacing, daring me to repeat myself. I swallowed nervously, unsure of what to do. Any anger I had felt earlier had disappeared, leaving me with nothing but a nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"I s-said that you should concentrate on your life before you start commenting on the lives of others." My voice was shaking but I tried to hide it, hopping he wouldn't see how nervous I was.

He narrowed his eyes, slowly unclenching his jaw. He didn't speak for a few seconds, just stared at me with a look of immense hatred. He finally snapped out of his thoughts and leaned down, bringing his mouth level to my ear. The urge to pull away and go hide somewhere safe was nagging at me but I could pull myself away.

"My life is just fine, it's yours you should be worried about. I don't like it when people cause a scene at my workplace, especially not if it involves me. So why don't you run along, I won't be needing your assistance anymore."

As soon as he finished, he pulled away, smirking at whatever emotion I was portraying at that moment; most likely a mix of terror and annoyance. Brushing past me, he walked off up the corridor, walking straight through the janitor as he turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

I shuffled backwards to lean against the wall, swallowing to try and ease my dry throat and willing my hands to stop shaking. Running over his words in my head i came to some solid conclusions. 1) I had just been threatened by a federal agent, 2) that same federal agent thought I was crazy and probably always would, and 3) this day had pretty much been a disaster and it was all Victor Benedict's fault.


	5. Chapter 5

**This** **is a bit of a filler chapter but I promise that there will be more exciting chapters in the future. I want to thank all of the people who reviewed, followed and favourited this story. You are the reason I am continuing to write. Thank you!**

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I was pulled out of my sleep by a loud ringing; groaning, I pulled the covers over my head, hoping the noise would go away so I could continue to sleep. The ringing finally stopped a few seconds later and I sunk further into the pillows, letting out a grateful sigh. But before I could drift back off, the ringing started again.

I tried to ignore it for as long as I could, not willing to leave the warmth of my bed to see who it was that was so adamant about calling me. It rang once, then once more, then again. Whoever it was really wasn't getting the message. When it started to ring for the sixth time, I couldn't stand it anymore.

I threw off the covers, cursing angrily as I rolled out of bed and stomped over to where my phone lay on the table. Picking it up, I looked at the call ID; an unknown number. It was probably one of those pesky telemarketers trying to get me t

o buy some new, overly priced product. Deciding to give them a piece of my mind, I answered the call, finally putting an end to the god forsaken ringing.

"What do you want?" I asked grumpily looking at the clock and sighing when I saw it was only half eight. There was no way I was getting back to sleep now.

"Lara DiSessa?" I looked at the call ID again. An unknown number? Not uncommon. An unknown number who knew who I was? Strange and more then a little unsettling.

"Who wants to know?" I asked warily. This was definitely not a telemarketer.

"My name is Rick Edwards, I'm a director at the FBI. I was recently informed that an outside source was used in the solving of one of our cases. Am I right in saying that outside source was you, Miss DiSessa?"

My heartbeat began to pick up. It had been over a week since I had been at the FBI and nobody had contacted me. I had assumed they had proceeded with the case and I was actually happy I was never contacted, another meeting with Victor Benedict was not something I desired. Victor... Had he said something about what had happened? Had he gone to the director about our argument, protesting my mental instability?

"You could say that." I mumbled, trying not to panic but knowing I was failing to do so. "I really didn't play a big part though, just gave some information."

"Miss DiSessa, we both know you did much more than that. You personally sort out an agent and meddled with a federal case." Oh crap, I was in trouble. I really hadn't thought that there would be any serious repercussions, that was probably a big mistake on my part.

"Mr Edwards, I'm sorry for any nuisance I caused but I just wanted to-"

"I assure you, there's no need to apologise. Your assistance was a major player in the solving of this case. On behalf of the FBI, I would like to formally thank you for your help." I paused, trying to understand what he was saying.

"You're thanking me?" I couldn't believe this. I was being formally thanked by the FBI. If I wasn't on the phone I'd probably be laughing at the irony of this situation and even more so at the fact that in a round about way, Victor Benedict was kissing my ass.

"Yes, Miss DiSessa, I am. You were a great deal of help to us. But I'm also calling for another reason. I'd like you to come into the office. You have a few papers to sign and I'd also like to discuss a few things with you. Would today be alright?"

I racked my brain, trying to think if I had anything else planned. Probably not. I told him it was fine and he gave me a time before hanging up. I looked around my room, trying to take in everything that had just happened.

Shaking my head, I glanced at the clock. I had a little over 2 hours until my appointment. Padding into the bathroom, I shut the door and turned on the shower.

I stood outside of the FBI, the sense of déjà vu washing over me. This time though, I was alone. Walking into the building, I took in the familiar surroundings, grimacing as I remembered the events of my last visit. Hopefully, this time I wouldn't be escorted out by security.

Making my way to the desk, I smiled at the receptionist. Clearly not having forgotten me, she looked over her shoulder to where a security guard stood, waiting to intercept any trouble.

"It's fine," I sighed "I have an appointment this time." She gave me look of distrust but signalled for me to go on.

"I'm meeting Rick Edwards at 10:45, he said you'd tell me where to go." She tapped away on the keyboard before letting out a sigh and meeting my eyes.

"You're a bit early but that shouldn't be a problem." She handed me a badge and a visitors log. "Sign in and put this on, make sure to keep the badge visible at all times. When you're done, come back here to sign out." I nodded at her instructions, adding my name to the list and clipping the badge to my shirt.

"You need to go to the 15th floor. Use your badge to get into the elevator. You'll be told where to go from there."

I gave her a smile before heading off. I knew where the elevators were located thanks to my previous trip but unlike last time, I had to go through a series of security precautions. Five minutes later, I was in the elevator heading up.

The fifteenth floor was different to the floor I had been on in my last visit. Unlike before, this floor was more spacious; mainly open plan with a number of offices behind closed doors and a quiet waiting room, decorated similarly to the main lobby.

A few feet away from the elevator was a small reception desk with an even smaller woman behind it. She was about the same age as the receptionist downstairs but looked a lot more friendly. She smiled as I made my way towards her and stood up to great me.

"You must be Miss DiSessa! Take a seat, I'll just tell Director Edwards you're here." I did as she said, sitting down in one of the leather armchairs; I was right, they were just as uncomfortable as they looked. Fortunately, I don't have to sit for long.

"Director Edwards will see you know." She said as she moved from behind the desk, gesturing for me to follow. I trailed after her as she made her way out of the waiting area and in to a corridor. We passed a few door until finally stopping outside the last one.

She knocked on the door, opening it after she got a reply. Guiding me through the door, she gave a smile to the man sitting behind the desk.

"Miss DiSessa, Director Edwards." She said inclining her head towards me. He gave her a smile as he stood up, straightening his blazer.

"Thank you, Amelia." With that she closed the door, the clicking of her heels slowly fading as she made her way down the corridor. The man in front of me stuck out a hand and I gave it a brief shake. He motioned to the chair next to me and I sat down, taking in the room.

His office was almost as big as my apartment; I don't know if that was because my apartment was small or because his office was ridiculously large. The walls were painted a light cream colour and complimented the wooden furnishings. His desk was tidy but there was a row of pictures on the wall, some presenting his diplomas and achievements while others were happy shots of his family at a range of different holiday destinations. The most defining point of the whole room, however, had to be the wall directly behind him; instead of brick and plaster, it was composed entirely of windows offering an amazing view of the city and letting natural light stream in.

"I'm lucky," he said, noticing where my attention was "not everyone has a view like this." He chuckled to himself and I dragged my eyes from the window to look at him.

He wasn't thin by any account but still looked reasonably in shape. His grey hair was cut short, dark brown eyes looking from behind wire-framed glasses. The laugh lines on his face seemed to give away his personality; cheerful and easygoing, but he wasn't the director for nothing. Something told me he could be just as scary and direct as he could be nice.

"So, Miss DiSessa," I smiled as he addressed me and relaxed a little in my chair "shall we begin?"


End file.
